


'I Miss You' Is Just Code For Something Else

by daisyqiaolianmay (skinman)



Series: The Parts That Make A Whole [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, Distance, Family, Missing May, Other, mothers, post 3x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/daisyqiaolianmay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye... Daisy missing May; left considering her Supervising Officer's months of absence and the chance Coulson's giving her to speak to Melinda May again.</p><p>(Because this hasn't been touched on in the show (yet) for some reason and I'd love to see how it might be dealt with, considering the relationship that developed between Skye and May.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	'I Miss You' Is Just Code For Something Else

“I miss her.” Her voice was small, quiet against the hum of the base.

Ventilators whirred above her and computers sang behind closed doors. The dead of night, just a while before the dawn breaks; not that she would know, all the way down here, shut away underground. Dim lights flickered and faded, sending faint rays that glance off the dominant metal shapes of the airplane hangar.

“Yeah.” He sympathised with a single word, slowly bending down to sit beside her.

Their legs hung over the edge of the overlook, eyes ahead, memorising the already so familiar curve of the Bus, yet another home that seemed so distant to her now, despite being so close.

The cool nature of the concrete floor is welcome, and she curls her fingers around the steel barrier in front of her, resting her chin on her hands.

“Daisy…” Coulson says carefully, sucking in a breath as if to carry on.

She laughs, short and broken.

“What?” His question is clear, worry etched into his features.

“Nothing I just…” The young woman moistens her lips, “I guess I just feel a lot more like little Mary Sue Poots right now.” Abandonment had never felt so personal before, and she’d been abandoned so many times.

They sat in wavering silence a moment. Skye’s, Daisy’s, feet swinging uninterrupted, her mind wandering.

May used to be the one who’d come find her on nights like this, not Phil, she’d arrive from the shadows, settling beside the girl. No words passing between them until Skye had decided it should be otherwise.

Mary Sue Poots had been inexperienced when it came to mothers, and so, consequently, was the woman she’d grown up to be.

 _‘Mothers are who tuck you in at night, who bake you cakes on your birthday, cheer for you at swimming galas… who cuddle you tight.’_ Daisy had thought that Em Baily at the orphanage had all the answers. Older than her by 2 years, and so, to Mary Sue, sure to be all-knowing. But an orphan is an orphan, and none can really know what a mother is.

Maybe all that was what a mother _could be_ … but it wasn’t what a mother _was_.

_‘Okay. Good, but remember a person’s center is usually higher than that, you have to learn to hit them directly on the breastbone.’_

Daisy closed her eyes at the memory, breathing it in, holding it as tight as a person could mist between their fingers.

_‘Again.’ May’s arms were folded, watching closely, dark eyes fixed on Skye._

_The girl gritted her teeth, resuming stance, she drew back, lifting her leg up in a sharp jab to the stomach of the dummy. Skye’s shoulders slumped, and she tried not to visually crumple under May’s sure gaze._

_‘Okay.’ The older woman’s mouth quirked, disappointed, in response to the feeble kick._

_‘Why can’t I do this?” Skye growled, throwing an aggressive right hook against the dummy._

_‘You can,’ May said simply, ‘but you need to stop focusing so hard on the target and concentrate on everything that comes beforehand.’_

_Skye ground her molars, stretching her neck, gearing herself up to try again. Beginning to feel self-conscious of the camera in the corner of the sparring room, mildly worried that there were yet more witnesses to her failure._

_‘Come here.’ The voice was softer than Skye was accustomed to from the Agent. May gripped her shoulders lightly from behind, moving Skye back a step, away from the dummy._

_‘Here?’ Skye frowned, surely she was too far away to get in a proper kick._

_‘Here.’ Melinda May confirmed, she let go of Skye’s shoulder, running a warm, comforting hand across the girl’s back in a way that could be easily overlooked as meaningless. Except it wasn’t, not to Skye._

_She could do this._

_Skye breathed in, oxygen filling the corners of her lungs. Her body almost seemed to flick to automatic. Her foot pushed off the mat, lifting gracefully, she spun, landing a hard, sure stroke to the very center of the dummy’s chest._

_Skye choked, a disbelieving, near laugh, as her sole hit the ground again. She watched the heavy dummy lightly swing in pure wonder._

_‘See.’ May was smiling, as though she had expected nothing less._

Daisy knew who she was now. She knew she was Daisy Johnson. She’d spent years of her life tracking down her parents, and it had all come down to terror, murder and misled intentions. A Mother was a person who made you, not necessarily physically, but inside, brick by brick, moment by moment, a unique personality formed of everything they’d done for you, with you.

Skye hadn’t been Daisy, strong, powerful, assured Daisy, until May. Jiaying might have carried her, an attachment merely 9 months long, but May was the one who’d picked her out of the dust, brushed her down, and sent her back in to try again.

“She’ll come back.” Phil’s tone was unsure, just barely. He was usually such a good liar, but not this time.

“Will she?” Daisy blinked rapidly, heat building in her eyes. She ached to cry, to just burst into tears right there.

“Of course.” He tried to respond cheerfully.

Daisy nodded, holding out her hand, palm up, waiting. His one good hand tentatively landed in hers, rough but warm, a welcome change from the cold smoothness of the barrier.

“She’s got to, right?” Daisy’s voice didn’t convey any of her new strength, but Phil was one of the people she could bear to let her guard down around.

“Right.” He confirmed, turning his head to look upon her profile, a silhouette in the darkness. “You want to talk to her?”

Daisy’s head snapped round, scandalised at his words, what they meant, “You have a number for her… all these months?” The hurt in her voice was apparent, painful.

“No.” Coulson shook his head, sighing, “A… uh… little birdie let slip to me that she’s with Hunter, I’ve been waiting for the right moment to test whether there’s any truth to it.”

Daisy tightened her hand around his, a firm show of solidarity.

Coulson drew his hand away, sliding his palm under, so his hand was cradling hers, holding it open. His new hand dipped into his pocket, the metal glinting as it emerged. Phil placed the phone in her hand.

“It’ll unlock at your thumbprint.” He gently folded her fingers around the gift.

“Thanks AC.” Daisy whispered softly, capturing his gaze with grateful, big, brown eyes.

“Shouldn’t it be DC now?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Always be AC to me Director.” Daisy smiled slightly, taking the phone carefully and pressing the on button.

The pads of her fingers skidded over the screen, speeding through the contacts to find Hunter detailed in as _‘LH’_. The beating of her heart quickened with each ring. Daisy couldn’t help but doubt, maybe she wasn’t with Hunter? Maybe she had been but she’d left already? Maybe the number wasn’t even right?

Daisy clambered up, leaving Coulson still sat, waiting.

“How’d you get this number?” Is what she’s greeted with after five long rings. The familiar British lilt of his tongue heartening.

For a second Daisy forgets pretty much every word she’d ever learned, much less how to string them together in a sentence. Gulping, she finds her voice, “I need to speak to her.”

“Uh…” The line crackles through the pause, Hunter comes to a conclusion, “Daisy?”

“I need to speak to May.” She follows up.

“Who spilled? It was Bobbie wasn’t it?”

“Hunter.” Daisy warned.

There was another sharp crackle, and it scared her. Thinking the connection had been lost, Daisy’s heart plummeted.

“Damn it, Skye.” The voice on the other end wasn’t angry, despite a choice of words that expressed otherwise. Her tone was warm and lenient, brimming with endearment she kept under wraps the majority of the time.

“May?” Daisy said, breathing shallow. Coulson jolted a little at her feet, head tilting to listen.

“Hey.”

Daisy grips the phone, the tips of her fingers turning white at the pressure. Shouldn’t she be angry at May? She’d said goodbye, hinting at a few weeks absence, and then barely a word from her for months. But, Daisy just couldn’t bring herself to yell, she didn’t want to waste time on being angry, not this time.

“Wait, its Daisy now, right?” The older woman corrected herself.

“Skye’s still okay, if you want.” Daisy didn’t care what May called her… as long as she came home.

“Daisy’s nice.” May tone was encouraging, validating. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I am, everyone’s actually… fine, I guess.” Daisy bit her lip, chewing nervously. She chose not to mention Simmons’ delicate condition, or the continued disappearance of the Inhumans, or her frustrating inability to construct a team out of them. But, if ‘fine’ meant ‘alive’, then yes, they were all just ‘fine’. “I just… I think I just… miss you.”

There was a long, calculating silence. The weight of it leant on Daisy, it was almost suffocating in its emotional extremity.

“I miss you too.” The cautious whisper was clear and true on the other end of the line, and Daisy really, truly began to feel the pressure of tears building in her eyes.

Coulson still watched her, knowing by the mere tremor of her shoulder’s what May had said. He stood, shoes slapping, muffled, against the concrete as he arrived opposite her.

“So… you’re coming back, right?” She knew she sounded about eight years old; a small child willing their mother home, guilt tripping her with the raw edge in their young voice.

Phil’s eyes flickered with something akin to hope.

“There’s… something I have to do first.”

 _‘That was a yes.’_ Daisy smiled against the receiver, feeling a tear travel down her cheek, leaving a cold, even trail in its wake. “Okay.” She accepted.

“No promises, I’ll try to be home by Christmas, okay?”

The fair smile in May’s tone is obvious to Daisy, sending a shot of warm assurance through her blood. She’d called them _‘Home’_.

“Okay.”

“Have you slept yet? You should get some sleep.” The older woman suddenly turned a little sterner, reminding Daisy that it’s not yet light out.

“Chill, Mom.” The girl reveled in the word; how it rolled of her tongue. It was playful, but they both know the heavy burden that the title carries, especially for Skye. The weight of 25 years without a mother.

“You’d better not be skipping morning drills, because I’ll be checking when I get back.”

May didn’t have to worry. Daisy had been up early, often before everyone else, pushing herself. It wasn’t the same without May’s nagging when she got it wrong and tiny proud smiles when she got it right, but it was still just as important.

“I haven’t.” Daisy reassured her, stifling a yawn just a little too late.

May reacted to it, soft again, “Get some sleep… _now_.”

“Night, May.” Daisy murmured into the phone.

“Night... Daisy.”

May waited for her to hang up, and when the line went dead Daisy smiled. She placed the phone back in Coulson’s open hand.

As he drew the object into his chest she realised suddenly, “You didn’t get to talk to her!”

Phil shrugged, though speaking to May was quite obviously important to him. The last couple of months without her had been difficult for him especially. Learning to cope with the loss of his left hand, and the woman that had been so often at his right one.

“Another time.” He told her.

He’d put her first. He could have called himself, monopolised the conversation, but he let her have May’s undivided attention instead.

_‘Fathers put their kids first, Mary Sue.’_

Daisy’s brow furrowed, unable to hold back, she threw her arms around the Director, ducking her head in, “Thanks… again.”

The man wound his arms around her, solid and real, “I’m making tea, you want some?”

“May’s tea?” She asked.

His eyes glinted in the dim light, “May’s tea.” He confirmed.

 

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